Mabon
by desolate butterfly
Summary: When Ron gets an unwanted invitation to the Pureblood celebration of Mabon, Harry finds himself immensely curious in the activities of his Slytherin schoolmates. And we all know what curiosity did, boys and girls...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Mabon  
**Author name:** Desolate Butterfly  
**Category:** Gen  
**Sub Category:** Drama  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP  
**Summary:** Harry learns something new about his wizarding heritage…and about Draco Malfoy.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** This will probably end up being H/D slash, just to warn any Harry/Ginny hopefuls reading this. Also, just so I don't have to deal with troublesome things like canon, this story will be AU.

* * *

_**Mabon**_

"A festival?"

Ron Weasley puzzled over the invitation in his hands, his fingers brushing over the characters of his name spelled out in red ink. Over his friend's shoulder, Harry Potter was trying to get a look at the mysterious invitation, while at the same time thwarting Ron's owl, who, having done its duty, fluttered dangerously close to Harry's breakfast plate. Across the table, Hermione Granger was involved in a bit of reading of her own, although it was not a glossy white invitation such as Ron's, but the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History (Vol.62 ½)_. She closed her book upon hearing Ron's puzzled exclamation.

"Give it here Ron," she said, holding her hand out to receive the invitation. She read it quickly, nodding several times in understanding before she looked up again. "Tonight is Mabon. You've been invited to the Second Harvest Festival!"

Harry looked confused. "What's Mabon, then? Some kind of school event? And why didn't we get invitations too?"

"Mabon is the Autumn Equinox, also known as the Second Harvest Festival, the Festival of Dionysus, the Wine Harvest, the Feast of Avalon, and Alban Elfred," Hermione stated, her eyes gleaming in a way that indicated she intended to give a lecture. "On this day, witches and wizards are supposed to celebrate the coming harvest and the prosperity they've enjoyed during the year. Celtic lore states that on this day, the infant Sun God, Mabon, was kidnapped and drawn into the earth itself. His absence marks the beginning of the winter season."

"I thought that was a Greek legend, not a Celtic one," Harry said, batting Pigwidgeon away from a link of sausage. "That whole thing with Hades and Persephone…"

Hermione beamed at him, thrilled that Harry had actually paid attention in Binns' class on magical folklore. "That is another version of what happens during the Autumn Equinox. The two stories are really just supposed to symbolize the coming of winter and the temporary death of the sun."

"Well then, what—_gerroff Pig!_—what does this have to do with Ron's invitation?"

"There's usually a ritual ceremony and feast for Pureblood students who are religiously observant," Ron said, frowning. "But I've never been invited to them before. It's mostly the Slytherins that hold it and my family isn't exactly considered _prestigious_ enough for me to take part. I wonder why I've suddenly got an invitation to join in this time?"

Hermione tapped her fork against her lips, the way she usually did with a pen while she was thinking.

"Neville's owl brought him something this morning. I think he probably got an invitation as well. The number of Pureblood students has been dropping off ever since last year, when knowledge of V-Voldemort's _–stop making faces Ron!—_ return became public. Most of the children of suspected Death Eaters were pulled out of school or transferred to Durmstrang. There can't be many left to observe the rituals."

"Are you going to go, Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron's face twisted into a sneer. "And hang around with stuck up Slytherins all night? No thanks. I'd rather play chess with Dean."

Hermione glared. "You _should_ be studying for our Potions test. You know Professor Snape isn't going to make it easy."

Ron muttered something unflattering about what Snape could do with his Potions test that Harry was glad he couldn't quite hear. It seems that Hermione might have caught a bit more of it then Harry though, because she immediately blushed and started to scowl impressively at the red-haired boy.

While Hermione threatened to wash Ron's mouth out with soap, Harry gazed enviously at the crisp, white invitation on the table. He had never seen a traditional Wizarding ceremony before (unless you counted getting your arm sliced open by Wormtail and having your blood used to bring an evil wizard back to life…which Harry didn't) and he was a bit curious as to what one looked like.

"Where do they hold the festival?" he asked, interrupting his best friends' bickering.

"Around the edges of the Forbidden Forest," Hermione answered. "Really, I think Headmaster Dumbledore ought to move it a bit closer to Hogwarts this year. The centaurs have been roaming closer then ever."

"They only stay on the edges 'Mione. You know Mabon rites have to be performed on hallowed ground anyway. Where d'you think they could hold it, the Quidditch pitch?" Ron asked, shovelling a bit of egg into his mouth. "Besides which, they wouldn't let students out on their own."

Hermione looked appeased at this.

"Yes, that's true. Professor Snape usually supervises the ritual," she said. "So I guess it's safe."

"Yet another reason to stay home," Ron interjected. "I already see the greasy git—_Don't kick me 'Mione_— enough during school hours. No need to seek more torture outside of class time. Say Harry, do you want to watch me trounce Dean in chess tonight? Or we could play Exploding Snap and make a tourney of it…"

Harry shook his head before Hermione could nag them about the Potions test. "Actually, I think I'm going to visit with Dumbledore tonight."

Immediately the concerned questioning started.

Hermione stared intently at his face, as if she could discern by looking what he might have to talk to Dumbledore about.

"You've been sleeping haven't you? Your eyes don't look red…Harry Potter, have you been taking Pepper-Up in the mornings so we won't notice that you haven't slept?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in indignation. Obviously he was trusted to take care of himself less then he thought he was.

"_Hermione!_ I wouldn't do that! Besides which, Ron would notice if I had to take a potion every morning, and Snape isn't exactly furnishing me with his stock here."

She placed her hands in her lap, shamefaced.

"Yes, that's true. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions Harry--"

"Bloody well _leaping_ to conclusions, I'd say," Harry muttered into his porridge.

I'm just worried you know," she pleaded.

Harry sighed and tried to summon up a smile. He managed half a one and decided it was the best he had to offer at present.

"I know."

"You okay mate?" Ron asked. "Scar isn't giving you trouble, is it?"

"Everything's fine. I just promised Dumbledore I'd keep him informed about how I'm doing and things. Because last year was so…well…you know."

They did. Hermione nodded gravely and Ron patted his shoulder in a gesture of understanding before turning back to his breakfast. Under the pretext of tossing a piece of bacon to Pigwidgeon, Harry got a clearer look at the invitation and memorized the time.

'_Twilight. I'll just use my cloak and take a look. No one will know.'_

Harry remembered stories in the newspaper that Uncle Dursley would read outloud at the breakfast table; tabloids about Wiccan rituals or festivals that involved either wild orgies or ritual sacrifices. Seeing as how a professor would be supervising the festival, even if it was Professor Snape—_on second though, maybe especially because it's Snape. I can't see anyone able to even suggest an orgy with his sour face around_—Harry doubted that these things would occur. However, he was still intensely curious about anything to do with his wizarding heritage.

Besides which, a part of him really did hope something like an orgy would occur.

'_I have to keep an eye on the Slytherins anyway,'_ he justified himself. _'Maybe they just use this Mabon thing to cover up Dark Arts rituals or something.'_

"Coming, Harry?" Hermione's voice called, stirring the boy from his thoughts. She and Ron had already finished their breakfast and had stood up to make their way to morning classes. They looked at Harry with a mixture of concern and expectancy.

"Er…yeah, just—" Harry shovelled the last of his egg into his mouth and picked up a piece of toast smeared with marmalade before gathering his books. "Let's go," he said, as if he were the one kept waiting.

As they made their way out of the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help looking back towards the table where Ron's invitation still rested neatly beside his empty plate.

_**To Be Continued…**_

**Please feed the review beast. - DeB**_**  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews, for all who did so. I hope you enjoy the next chapter! -DeB

**Mabon **

* * *

Just before seven o'clock, Harry crept out of the Gryffindor common room, invisibility cloak wrapped around his thin frame. The halls were very empty as he made his way down to the school grounds. 

As Hermione has pointed out, many students had been pulled out of Hogwarts this year, and not only the children of suspected Death Eaters. Wizarding families, afraid of the attractiveness of Hogwarts as a target, had decided to transfer their children into other schools. The remaining students had a subdued air about them. Fred and George were gone, and with them a lot of the ruckus that had livened up Hogwarts' classrooms and hallways for years. Recent attacks on heavily Muggle populated areas of London had also dampened the high spirits of most students.

Not for the first time, Harry felt that slow burn of anger which sparked and fumed whenever he thought of those horrid moments after the attacks were announced; the frightened glances of the first years, Hermione's tear-stained face hidden in Ron's shoulder, and Ron's look of helpless pain.

Colin Creevy's mother had been killed by falling debris after a dark curse had tumbled the building she worked in to the ground, and after that day, nothing the Gryffindors could do would make the Creevy brothers smile. Harry had even offered to let Colin photograph his next Quidditch practice, but the boy had merely gazed sightlessly at a point below Harry's left earlobe and stated quietly that he had given away his camera.

Harry's rising anger, brought on by his memories, kept him warm as he stumbled out into the brisk September evening. The night was cold, but unbelievably clear, and Harry had only to tip his head back in order to view a myriad of stars, sprinkling across the cobalt sky. The sun had nearly set, and only a bit of purpling light could be seen on the horizon to show its passage.

Harry picked up his pace, moving out past the green house towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the faint blaze of a bonfire could be seen.

'_I hope they haven't started yet,'_ Harry thought, anxiously.

Unfortunately, by the time he drew near it became obvious that the festivities had started, though from the looks of things, Harry hadn't missed very much.

The bonfire, which had looked rather small from the greenhouse, had actually developed in size until it had become a pyre as tall as Harry was. An altar had been set up in front of the bonfire, decorated with blood-red candles, baskets of dried leaves and berries, Cyprus cones, pine needles, small gourds and pomegranates.

On both sides of the altar several students stood. Harry only recognized a few of them: Neville had not come, but Harry figured the majority of students present to be Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson was one of the ones closest to the altar. She was wearing robes of a deep russet shade and a basket full of sweet smelling leaves and fronds was nestled in her arms. Every so often she would take a handful and throw them on the fire, filling the air with a thick, acrid smoke that crept into Harry's throat and made his eyes water.

Suppressing the sudden need to cough, Harry circled around out of the wind's path and found himself almost tripping over Snape in his haste to get away from the smoke. Fortunately, he found his bearings quick enough to move out of the way, though Snape frowned suspiciously in his general direction as if he could sense the boy he had almost stepped on.

Snape's appearance was subtly altered. He still wore his long black robes, tightly buttoned from foot to throat, however his greasy hair had been pulled back into a loose pony tail and his hands looked to have been painted gold. On his face, a strange symbol marked out in what looked like berry juice stained high on his left cheek bone.

"Is everything prepared?" Snape asked, his voice carrying over the crackle and hiss of the fire.

"Draco is still getting ready," Parkinson offered. "Blaise is helping him."

"The sun is almost set. He had better hurry up."

"Here, Professor."

Through the sheerness of the cloak over his face, Harry could see a gleaming figure make its way to the altar. Draco Malfoy was stripped to the waist and his pale skin practically glowed in the moonlight. His platinum hair had been rinsed of all gel and strands of it hung down across his forehead in a fringe that might have matched Harry's own unruly mop. Around his neck and waist looped several chains of gold set with sapphires and lapis lazuli. The gems sparkled and caught the firelight as Malfoy moved to stand in front of Snape.

"You are late," Snape admonished him, sternly. "Are the symbols drawn correctly?"

"Blaise did them," Malfoy replied, turning around so Snape could see his back. "Check for yourself."

Harry could see that Malfoy's back was stained with the same red substance Snape had on his cheek; the marks curving up and around his spine in a strange pattern. Harry didn't know what they meant, but Snape obviously did, for he nodded in approval and Malfoy turned back around to face the older man expectantly.

"Wands at the altar except for Zabini and Knight," Snape ordered. "You two, cast the circle."

Harry watched nervously as one by one, each student placed their wands in front of the altar. It didn't seem safe to just let your wand out of your hand, especially that close to the Forbidden Forest. But Snape didn't seem worried, and neither did anyone else, so Harry decided that wards would have been set up earlier to avoid dangerous mishaps.

'_That, or they just don't think Voldemort's that interested in attacking Pureblood children.'_

Harry quickly stepped out of the way as Blaise Zabini strode by him, his wand trailing in the grass and leaving behind a fine powdery substance. Zabini's cloak gaped open as he passed, revealing dusky skin with the same mysterious symbols marked out in red on his neck and chest.

As soon as he and the other student had finished drawing a wide circle around the altar and its occupants, those wands joined the others in the pile in front of the altar. Snape then took a vial from his robe and held out his hand. Harry watched as Parkinson drew from her basket a small silver chalice and handed it reverently to Snape.

"You have sterilized it?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Snape then poured the contents of the vial into the chalice and added to it some berries picked from the altar decorations along with another splash of something from a flask which Harry could not identify but looked an awful lot like red wine. For a moment, Harry considered going straight to Dumbledore and telling him that Snape was giving his students recreational drugs. Then he considered sneaking a taste of whatever was in that chalice after the Slytherins had finished with it.

"There," Snape breathed as he stirred the mixture in the chalice with his wand three times widdershins. "This should be enough. Only one swallow each, I don't have enough camphire for a second batch. _Incedio_."

Snape waved his wand in the direction of the candles on the altar and the wicks burst into flame at once. Then Harry watched Snape pocket his own wand with a sort of relief.

'_At least someone is thinking about safety measures. Though I wouldn't want to rely on Snape to save my arse if anything comes out of the forest right now. He looks a bit off, I wonder if he's been taking sips of that flask before coming out here…'_

Harry was snapped out of his musings as Parkinson started to speak.

"Who blesses this circle?"

"I do." A sixth year Slytherin that Harry recognized from Quidditch but couldn't put a name to stepped forward, a garland of roses and dried leaves in his hands. He set it down at Pansy's feet. "I bless this circle with air."

The wind, which until now had been a soothing quiet presence at Harry's back, blew hard enough to make the petals of the garland strip off and into the air where they shrivelled into dust. The candles on the altar flickered wildly, but Snape's spell must have been strong because they refused to go out. Suddenly freezing, Harry drew his cloak closer around his skinny arms and huddled down on the ground, just outside the circle.

"Who blesses this circle?" Parkinson asked again.

This time, a girl wearing a Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around her hair like a turban stepped forward, a similar garland to the one the boy had been carrying in her hands.

"I bless this circle with water."

As the garland was placed at Parkinson's feet, a sweet smelling dew started to drip and flow from the roses, dampening the ground until a small puddle had formed around the wreath.

"Who blesses this circle?"

This time, Harry knew exactly who stepped forward. Draco Malfoy, not to be outdone by anyone, laid a slightly larger garland at Parkinson's feet.

"I bless this circle with fire," he said, and smirked as a spark from the bonfire seemed to leap over Parkinson, barely missing her blonde hair, before landing on the garland and setting it afire with a soft whoosh of air and chemicals. Pansy glared at him in a way that clearly stated _I am not amused,_ but Malfoy only smiled innocently at her in response.

"Who blesses this circle?"

As Blaise stepped forward, Harry wondered vaguely if they were going to go through each and every person this way. So far, despite the mysterious chalice of something that might be alcoholic, there had been nothing obscene or shocking to this festival. Not even a hint of orgy. Harry was beginning to feel disappointed.

However, it appeared that Blaise would be the last, for as soon as he placed his garland down the rest of the group sat down, and the chalice was passed around from person to person until everyone had drunk from it.

Then, as if by some silent signal, all those in the circle started to chant.

_The days grow colder, and the leaves fall. Our Lord of the sun rides the winds westward, and the cool, misty night descends.  
Fruits ripen, and the seeds drop. This is a time of balance, when night equals day, and though all seems dead or dying, I know that life continues.  
Life is not possible without death, and the coming of winter is just another spoke in the great wheel._

"Then turn," Parkinson whispered, and as one, all the children rose to their feet, hands clasped, and started to move around the circle, weaving a complex pattern across the ground. Harry watched as they turned inside the circle like the spokes of a giant wheel, three, six, nine times before they stopped. Their feet made no sound on the grass, and only the faint crackle of the fire interrupted the silence.

Parkinson clapped her hands three times and murmured, "We give thanks."

"We give thanks," the rest parroted back to her. And then, as if a spell had been broken, all the seriousness from her face vanished and she smiled happily.

"Good job everyone. A feast is set up in the Common Room for those that aren't fasting. And I think Blaise snagged some wine from one of his parent's vineyards, right?"

"Mulberry wine," Zabini added, winking at some of the younger students, who blushed. "Top of the line stuff."

Snape sneered at this, but only said, "Mr. Zabini, I shall be very disappointed should any of my students not appear for morning classes."

"Don't worry, sir. It's only one bottle."

Snape made a sound that could have been derision or dismissal and then doused the candles at the altar before stepping out of the circle. The rest of the students picked up their wands and started to wander away, back down the trail to Hogwarts.

'_What a boring festival,'_ Harry sighed to himself, and got up to leave as well. But then, he noticed that Draco Malfoy had not removed his wand from the altar and was hanging back. Parkinson and Snape noticed his reluctance to move as well.

"Coming in, Drakey?" Pansy asked, and Malfoy visibly winced at the nickname and glared at her. She smiled sweetly in return and mouthed _payback_ at him.

"I have a certain ritual I need to finish for myself," the blonde aristocrat said. "I'll meet up with you at the feast in an hour or so."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Are you quite certain you should be by yourself?"

"I'm perfectly fine here for another hour, Professor. You set the wards yourself, so you should know that they won't wear off until sunrise."

Snape frowned and turned his back to Malfoy, stalking towards the school without another word. Pansy looked at the retreating back nervously before raising troubled eyes to Malfoy.

"It's cold Dray," she said. This time he did not flinch at the shortening of his name. Smiling, he put a hand on Pansy's shoulder.

"I know Pans. I won't be long, promise."

"Okay."

Both Malfoy and Harry watched as the Slytherin girl followed the line of students back towards Hogwarts until they could no longer be seen. Then Malfoy picked up his wand from the altar and began to recast the circle.

* * *

**_To Be Continued... _**


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